Stories Never End
by inspiration-is-not-here
Summary: What happened after Frodo sailed away? A tale with a few twists and Sam's feelings of abandonment.


Frodo sat back in the boat, sighing heavily. Tears glistened in his eyes like the water skimming by; tears he was determined not to show. He had smiled as he left his friends, telling Sam it would all be all right, but now he needed reassurance himself. The Shire, which he had fought so long and hard for, was now behind him; the green hills, his old hobbit-hole, and all.  
  
Frodo didn't notice Gandalf's presence until he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder, causing him to jump slightly.  
  
"All chapters have a beginning and an end," the wizard said, softly. "But stories go on forever."  
  
Frodo looked up into the eyes of his mentor, a single tear rolling down his cheek unchecked. "It's too hard, Gandalf," he said. "You picked the wrong hobbit for an adventure. It's precisely what happened to uncle Bilbo – I'll become disrespected, tutted at, looked down upon, back in the Shire. I was never the type for an adventure – you made a mistake."  
  
"Ha! You know as well as I do that adventure runs in your veins, my boy!" Gandalf smiled down at him, blue eyes twinkling. "You never felt complete in the Shire, always longing to be like Bilbo..."  
  
"That's not true!" Frodo cried, getting up and deliberately moving away from Gandalf to the other side of the boat. "It's not true," he repeated to himself in a whisper, watching the ripples the boat's movement made on the still, clear water.  
  
* * * *  
  
~~~~~~  
  
Samwise Gangee was never the type to be lonesome. He'd always been a very simple hobbit, simple but happy, yet as he walked back to the Shire with Merry and Pippin, he felt a consistent pang in the pit of his stomach.  
  
"Glad to be home, Pip?" asked Merry, as they approached the familiar green of the Shire again.  
  
"Very glad, very glad – merry, in fact," answered Pippin, which caused the two to laugh at their pointless joke. They walked beside Sam, but not with him, if that made any sense.  
  
As they continued with their prattle, Sam fell further and further behind. He couldn't help but think that Merry and Pippin had each other, but where now was his special friend? He had accompanied Frodo all the way, carried him to Mordor, and what thanks did he get?  
  
He kicked a stone carelessly along the pathway. No, he mustn't blame Frodo. Frodo had to do what he had to do.  
  
They were into the Shire now, progressing over green grass and little paths, all connected together. It was picturesque and peaceful, the way it used to be, yet there was something horribly different.  
  
Pippin turned round as they reached his hobbit-hole, and invited Merry and Sam in for a second lunch. Merry gladly took up the offer, but Sam refused.  
  
"No second lunch for Samwise Gangee?" said Pippin, concerned. "There must be something terribly wrong."  
  
"No, really, there isn't." Sam shook off their sympathies. "I just... want to get back and settled at home, that's all."  
  
Not wanting to persist in case they ended up with a depressed Sam on their hands, Merry and Pippin agreed and went on inside. Alone, Sam's sad form made its way back to his old home, passing Frodo's and looking nostalgically, tearfully, through the window as he went.  
  
* * * *  
  
~~~~~  
  
The sun set and just as the moon rose, Frodo decided to retire to bed. As he began to make his way to his chosen sleeping-place, he heard a voice say, "Thinking of sleep now, Frodo Baggins, just when we're about to embark?"  
  
"Legolas," breathed Frodo, who had been slightly shaken by the voice.  
  
The elf stepped out of the shadows, grinning. "It is I," he teased.  
  
Frodo struggled to smile, then said, "Embark?"  
  
"Embark indeed. Upon another adventure." Legolas looked excited, colour rushing to his cheeks and eyes round with wonder.  
  
"But the sun is set..." Frodo shook his head, confused. "Why stop now?"  
  
Legolas merely laughed, bouncing effortlessly from foot to foot on his toes. "You'll see," he said, in a singsong voice. "You'll see."  
  
* * * *  
  
~~~~~~  
  
It was dark now, and as he made himself a cup of tea, Samwise couldn't help but wonder what Frodo was doing now. Alone, he sat down at the table and stirred his mug carelessly. His eyes wandered of their own accord out of the window.  
  
The darkening night was undisturbed, except for a patch of fog somewhere. Wait – fog?  
  
Sam got up cautiously to have a closer look. That moving shadow of grey wasn't fog at all – it was smoke. Smoke, billowing this way and that in the wind outside, and always progressing, closer and closer, towards....  
  
Surely it couldn't be towards him?  
  
Sam opened the window and could hear voices carried on the wind. Then he noticed, one by one, little orange and yellow dots were appearing on the horizon, and getting bigger as they neared his house.  
  
"What's going on?" he said aloud, slamming the window shut and rushing out of his round front door. As he stood on his garden path, he was astounded by what he saw.  
  
"There he is!" cried a woman hobbit, pointing clearly at Sam. The voices raised angrily and the orange and grey moved towards him quicker.  
  
That's when Sam realised what was happening: a crowd of hobbits, each carrying a lit torch, were descending quickly towards him. And they didn't look happy. 


End file.
